Get Right to the Point
by Rina996
Summary: What started out as a story for my friend when she was feeling sick became a huge project that follows the story of Ginny Lestrade (Fem!Greg), Mycroft Holmes, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

~1~

**Has he got anything? –GL**  
**Mind Palace, he's been gone for about 2 hours. –JW**  
**I'm stumped. I've got an awful headache. I sent everyone else home. They've been up for 2 days straight. –GL**  
**You've been awake for longer than that. –JW**  
**You worry about your boyfriend, I'm a big girl I can handle myself. –GL**  
**He's /not/ my boyfriend. –JW**  
**Right, whatever, I'm wearing patches now so no texts unless he says something. –GL**  
**You know that's not good for you, right? –JW**  
**[No Reply]**

Ginny sat at her desk, mind racing as she examined the photos and files spread before her. Six victims over the past year and a half; all poisoned and cut up post-mortem. She rubbed her eyes, six blood-ridden scenes and no leads and her superiors were pressuring her like hell. She started re-reading the files, writing on the pad she kept on her lap. An hour passed, then two. The words were starting to swim on the page when she heard footsteps. At this hour there were only three people it could be. Security, a janitor or-

"Hello Ginevra." Mycroft Holmes greeted her as he walked in. As usual he was dressed in a well-tailored suit, swinging his umbrella from his wrist. Mycroft constantly made her feel under dressed; especially right now that she was wearing jeans and a blouse. Lost in thought she almost didn't notice that he had a box of doughnuts in one hand and a takeout tray of coffee cups in the other until he put them on the last free bit of space on her desk. "Do you realize it's nearly four in the morning?"

"Mmm." She glanced up as she mumbled in reply, thrown off by the food and his presence. "Working." She couldn't afford distractions and the British Government was definitely distracting Detective Inspector Lestrade. "Did John send you to check on me?" she asked, looking back down at the files in her lap.

"He mentioned you were working late by yourself. He also said you were wearing nicotine patches and that if you didn't eat you would fall ill." He gestured to the doughnuts and coffee as he sat in the chair opposite her desk. "Eat."

"I should, I will. Later." She replied in clipped tones, attempting to focus even as a warm (and hopefully not noticeable) blush crept up her cheeks. "In a little bit, after I finish this file."

"No. You'll eat now." He said it gently but firmly. Standing and closing the file in her hands before taking the pad from her lap. "I've played this game before with Sherlock. One file becomes two, two becomes four. Eat." Ginny looked at the closed file in her hands as she decided whether or not to fight him on it.

"Fine, give it to me." She slumped in her chair as Mycroft smirked and handed her a coffee. "But only because I could use the caffeine." She took a sip, her eyes darting over the papers that remained on her desk.

Mycroft watched her silently, a small smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth. "None of you three have been sleeping." He observed, the smile dropping and his voice lilting with a hint of concern.

"Don't need it on a case; after this is closed I can sleep for a week." She didn't look up as she spoke, her hand reaching another file. However, before she could grab it Mycroft slipped a doughnut into her hand.

"Eat, you can't demand so much of yourself and give your body nothing in return." She shot him a look before taking a bite and reluctantly smiling, chocolate was her favorite.

"Thanks... S'pose I haven't really been eating much lately."

"You're very thin Inspector, starving yourself will do you no good."

She snorted, "Tell that to the media, 'Thin is good' it's the catchphrase of our times."

"It isn't always so good." Mycroft's frown deepened.

"Mhmm." She replied absently, not really registering what he was saying. She was looking at photos of the victims from before their deaths, "They've all lost weight recently…" she trailed off, now looking towards her office ceiling. "Dieting, gyms- all of them?" She chugged the last bit of coffee and shoved the doughnut in her mouth. Mycroft watched Ginny, his mouth slightly agape as she flipped through the papers and pulled out several. Reading them, she nodded and looked up at Mycroft, "Gym memberships, all of them. It's a small connection, but our only one so far." She smiled brightly, "Guess you were right, eating helped."

Mycroft pulled himself together quickly, "Absolutely brilliant."

"A little," Ginny answered cheekily, grinning from ear to ear. She pulled out her mobile, dialed and hit call, "Sure hope John hasn't fallen asleep yet."


	2. Chapter 2

~Ch. 2~

John jumped as his mobile rang, the tune surprising him and Sherlock who was quickly jolted back to reality.

"It better be important." Sherlock snapped, glancing at the clock on the wall, just past 4:30 in the morning.

"It's Ginny, lemme just- Hullo? Yeah."

"Lestrade you interrupted me." Sherlock said, loud enough to be heard through the phone.

"He can't hear you, hold on, I'll put you on speaker." He put the phone down next to his laptop and hit a button, "Okay, go."

_"Sherlock, stop being a prat, we have a connection between the victims."_

"Do you mean besides the fact that they were all female and lived alone?" Sherlock said sarcastically

_"Actually, yes and if you'd stop being such a bloody git for two minutes I could tell you."_

John laughed a bit as he listened to them bickering, "Maybe we could skip the fighting and get right to the point?"

_"That'd probably be best, Inspector." _Came Mycroft's voice through the speaker, _"Your lack of sleep is starting to get to you."_

"Mycroft?" John looked at the phone incredulously before glancing up at Sherlock, who dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"The connection, Lestrade, if you please."

_"Right, it's not much but all the victims had gym memberships, expensive ones. Like I said, not a lot, but it's a connection. Victims two and six both kept calendars, I've got them here and they went regularly. My bet is all of them did." _Her voice crackled and the sound of papers shuffling crackled through the speaker.

"They all went to the same gym?"

_"No and not all of them were owned by the same company I've got a list; I'm emailing it to John right now. I'm gonna keep digging to see if I can find out what kind of schedule they had but I think we're pretty much stuck 'til morning."_

Sherlock nodded, standing abruptly. "John I'll need those locations pinned up, Lestrade make sure you get those schedules as soon as you can."

_"Course, I'm gonna set up a list of gym employees to interview."  
_"Fine." Said Sherlock, pacing.

"You ought to get some sleep Gin, you need it," John said taking the phone off speaker and holding it to his ear. "Yeah, I'll force him down in a bit, he needs it too. Yeah well just be sure Mycroft, you know how she is. Yeah, remind me to slip it into their drinks next time." He laughed, "Night." He hung up and glanced at his laptop, grabbing thumbtacks he started pinning up the locations of the gyms as Sherlock watched. "That's it, six gyms, scattered all around London." He stood, stretching a bit and let Sherlock take a look. Sherlock stood in front of the map his eyes darting from tack to tack.

"Remind me again how they die d."

"Cyanide, swallowed because there were burns on the lips in the mouth and the throat but they weren't forced into it, no signs of struggle. Arms and legs cut off post-mortem but left where they lay, any residue from the cyanide is wiped off with whatever tea towel was lying around and their eyes were all closed." He recited off a sheet in front of him

"What was the cyanide swallowed with? Water?" Sherlock asked, his back turned so John wouldn't see his smirk

"Uhh, no. Their stomachs were empty of everything except- oh that's disgusting blended vegetables."

"Yes, exactly." He turned to John, a glint in his eye as he prepared to rattle off his latest deduction. "Our killer meets his victims at the gym, maybe he works there, more likely he's a patron since they're all different gyms. He becomes close to them, befriends them, offers them workout tips and dieting advice, the blended vegetables- a sort of health drink. He offers to show them how to make it, goes over to their flat and makes it, my bet is if you really looked at the blended mush you'd find slivers of almond and what does cyanide smell like? Bitter almonds. They probably weren't expecting the painful burning sensations and convulsions that go with the almost instant death; he cleans their faces, chops off their arms and legs and waltzes on his merry way."

John gaped at Sherlock, his eyes wide in amazement. "Fantastic."

"Hardly." Said Sherlock standing and walking towards the window, "We've still got no motive and no suspects, the victims had no enemies and every suspect we could dredge up has an alibi or is simply too stupid to have pulled it off." He watched the sky begin to lighten as London stirred in its sleep. "You have to go down to the clinic today."

"Not until about ten." John yawned, closing his laptop. "But you're right, I ought to get some sleep." He stood and stretched, "Are you going to sleep Sherlock? I told Mycroft I'd force you to get some rest."

"Nosy prat, rest assured John I'm heading to bed. " He twitched the curtains shut and strode across the room to shut off the light. "Sleep well, John."

"Yeah, g'night Sherlock." John mumbled, shuffling up the stairs to his bedroom. Sherlock closed his door and lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling for a minute or two. Then he stood again and stripped, wrapping himself in his sheet and falling back onto the pillows. He closed his eyes, a secret smile on his face.

"Fantastic." He whispered, immersing himself in the memory.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny was laughing as she hung up after the call with John, "Did you really just give him permission to _drug_ me and Sherlock if we don't sleep?"

Mycroft arched an eyebrow in what could've been amusement, "Sedate, not drug, Inspector. Very different, and for your own good I might add. Perfectly justified." Ginny grabbed the notepad from her desk and ripped off the top sheet, crumpling it up and throwing it at him. He deflected it easily with his umbrella.

"From now on I better watch what I drink around you and John." She grinned lazily, her sleeplessness catching up with her despite the coffee she'd just drunk.

Mycroft chuckled and stood, noticing her slowed movements and the droop of her eyelids. "Perhaps now you'll agree to get some rest?"

"If I say no I run the risk of being roofied, so sure." She closed the open files and slid them into her desk drawer, stretching she looked out the window, "It's getting light out already."

"Which means you need to sleep." Mycroft insisted, opening the door as she slid on her coat and allowing her to leave first.

"Wow." She gasped in mock surprise, "I'd almost forgotten there was a world outside my office." She giggled giddily as Mycroft closed the door behind them, it clicked as it automatically locked and suddenly Ginny's heartbeat kicked up. Without a desk between her and Mycroft the DI suddenly felt very vulnerable. She toyed with the ends of her hair as she walked alongside him down the hall. They took the stairs down to the car park, Mycroft texting and her chewing her lip.

"Um, thanks for the coffee." She said as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "And the inspiration, I probably wouldn't have made the connection if it wasn't for you."

"Of course." He replied absently, she nodded shyly and opened her mouth to say something more before shutting it again and turning to walk towards her motorbike. Before she could take two steps she tripped, but just before she hit the ground Mycroft reached out and grabbed her elbow, steadying her. He held her there for a moment, slipping his phone into his pocket as she straightened up, before he let go.

"You're exhausted." He said simply, analyzing and deducing, "You can hardly walk, more or less drive _that_ without crashing. I won't allow it." He said with a note of finality.

She stood up straighter, her elbow still tingling from where he'd grabbed her, "I'm fine." She insisted, "And it's not like you can stop me anyway." She turned on her heel and continued walking defiantly, reaching for her keys. She froze when they weren't in her coat pocket and frantically checked all her pockets before turning to ask Mycroft if he'd seen them only to see that he held them in his hand, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"Oh so it's a Holmes thing." She mumbled, "First my badges, now my keys."

"I'm only doing what's best for you, Inspector." He said lightly as a shiny black car pulled up. He pocketed the keys and opened the door, gesturing for her to climb in, "I suggest you don't make it difficult." Once she had slid inside he sat next to her, shutting the door behind him.

There was room in the car, the seats were butter soft leather and Ginny sat leaning against the far window, as much space between her and Mycroft as possible. "You realize how threatening that sounds, don't you?" she said, her face turned to the window. She didn't want him deducing anything about her right now, especially not when they were so close together, almost trapped, in the small space. She'd worked too hard to keep her feelings for him a secret and she wasn't going to let it slip now.

"Normally I say it in threatening situations, so yes." He answered, pulling out his phone again, "Tonight is an exception."

"Thank God," she laughed a bit and turned back to him, "S'pose your driver doesn't need directions to my flat, does he?"

"Unnecessary." He replied, his fingers moving quickly on his phone's keyboard. She sighed and turned back to the window, watching his reflection in the tinted glass before examining her own. Her reddish curls were a frazzled mess, and her roots were greying, she needed a touch up. The bags under her eyes were a smudgy dark color, almost purple and her eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion. She looked as awful as she felt and suddenly she was embarrassed. She rubbed her eyes and lay back against the seat, sighing softly. The rest of the ride passed in silence, nearly half an hour later the car stopped outside a modest flat in a decent part of town. Mycroft climbed out and quickly rounded the car, opening the door for her. She stood and stumbled a bit, Mycroft placed a hand on her arm to balance her.

"Tired?"

"Not really." She glared, yawning loudly. He shook his head and handed her back her keys.

"Will you be alright getting inside?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She realized he still had his hand on her arm she stepped forward, pulling away from his touch. "See? I'm alright." He nodded and stepped out of her way so she could get to her front door. "G'night Mycroft." She yawned again, walking away.

Mycroft stood by the car, leaning on his umbrella and watching her let herself in. Once he was sure she was inside and safe he climbed into the car and sighed, pulling the door shut. He settled back against the seat, his eyes closed. He had a long day ahead of him and he didn't need any distractions, like the wonderful and quickly fading scent of her perfume. He Opened his eyes as the car pulled away and sat up straight as he received a text from his PA

**_Did you tell her goodnight? –A_**

**_No. MH_**

**_With all due respect, sir, you're an idiot. –A_**

**_I know. MH_**


	4. Chapter 4

~4~

Six hours, one cold shower and four cups of hot coffee later found Ginny back in her office, albeit more refreshed and focused than she was earlier. She sat at her desk as John stood across from her, both watching Sherlock tear through the files looking for possible suspects.

"He's like a whirlwind. What time did you get to sleep last night?" she asked John, glancing over at him before looking back at Sherlock.

"Few minutes after we hung up with you, he had his epiphany and sent me to sleep."

"Usually it's the other way around." She chuckled, sipping her coffee (cup number five).

"Well he _did _go to sleep, I heard him as I was going to bed, but he was up by seven so he couldn't have gotten more than two hours. I'm off though, already late as it is."

Sherlock paused briefly to nod goodbye and turned back to the files, speaking once John had left. "He'll be back in about four hours." He said lightly, "It's been slow lately; they won't even be upset that he's as late as he is."

Ginny pulled open the drawers of her desk and pulling out a badge, setting it on top of a stack of files, "You really care about him, don't you?" She asked, "You get concerned for him, constantly check on him, always know where he is. You weren't this worried when Mycroft went _missing _for ten days and came back with a cast on his left arm."

"Mycroft's a git for getting involved in government." he snapped, "John's my friend, why wouldn't I check up on him?"

"I dunno, are we friends? I thought we were friends."

"You're an associate, Lestrade, a good and close one, but nothing more. Caring is not an advantage."

"Yeah, yeah it's a risk." She picked up one of the files he'd tossed, "And John's worth that risk in your mind. Are you sure your feelings for him are purely platonic?"

Sherlock snorted, "Perfectly sure, Lestrade, friends. And he's had a string of girlfriends since he's moved in. I haven't been interested in anyway in the way you're speaking of since I was in Uni." He walked over and placed a file on her desk.

Now it was Ginny's turn to snort as she picked up the file, "Right. Okay. Anyway, we've got gym employees to interview, I've got Anderson's badge for you to use-"

"No need." He cut her off, pulling out a badge and flashing 'Detective Inspector G. Lestrade' at her, the light shining off of it.

She stared as he closed the badge and slid it back into his pocket, "Fuck you, Sherlock." She growled, rifling through her pockets quickly before grabbing Anderson's badge and tucked it away, "Why? Because I suggested you might have feelings for John?"

"Because you were being annoying." He said simply as she followed him down the hall and they climbed inside the lift, sinking down to the car park. As they walked towards the patrol car Sherlock paused by her bike, "You didn't ride it today." He gestured towards it.

She shook her head, keeping her face expressionless, "Your brother dropped me off at my flat last night and I took a cab this morning." Sherlock nodded and they continued to the car, climbing in wordlessly. As she started the car Ginny glanced over at Sherlock, "So you don't have feelings for John?"

"John likes women, Lestrade. You would have a better chance."

"Not in his life." She scoffed, the corners of her mouth turned up in a half smirk as Sherlock turned away from her to face the window, a satisfied smiled gracing his face.


	5. Chapter 5

~5~

"Al-_right! Both _of you, shut _up!_" Ginny shouted at a bickering Sherlock and Donovan. The glass walls of her office practically shook between the two of them shouting, they'd just finished interviewing the witnesses and Sally and Sherlock were having…disagreements. "Sally. _Please_." She pleaded, "Bite his head off later, just leave me the timetables and find me that sketch artist. I need a composite and one of the witnesses is on the edge of a breakdown. "

Sally sighed and nodded, walking out quickly and glaring daggers at Sherlock, leaving a stack of timetables on the desk behind her.

"Lestrade she was _obvi-_"

"I don't care Sherlock, just please shut up for 45 seconds so I can look over these time tables and-" Before she could finish her sentence Sherlock had yanked them out of her hand and was furiously flipping through them

"He spends all his time at gyms." Sherlock proclaimed after a minute

"I figured as much, seeing as that's how he chooses his victims-" Ginny began sarcastically before Sherlock cut her off again

"Lestrade! You're not listening! I mean _all _his time, no job, no social life, he simply hops from gym to gym all day, have you looked at these time tables?"

"Well no you haven't-"

"All these women went to the gym regularly at different times of day, some as late as midnight. Some as early as 5, where does he get the time? And what is he doing? How did your witnesses describe the suspect?"

"All the witnesses described a light skinned man with dark hair and medium height, really I'd rather wait for-"

"Not overly muscular, or extremely thin." He paced, "So he's not constantly working out and that he's been doing this for more than a year. He's getting confident, cocky."

"It could-"

"Don't tell me your witnesses are mistaken, they may be, but he wouldn't be overly muscular, simple as they are they would've noticed _that. _I need another body."

"You _what?_ Sherlock, six deaths is already six too many, we're having a hard enough time trying to keep a lid on this-"

"_Exactly _he assumes no one knows, that he's scot free, there's too many details to his cleanup, he's going to slip up- clean something about clean- oh."

"Oh? Oh what?"

"I need to go, and Donovan is going to need your help with the witnesses, one of them is having a break down." He swept out without another word and Ginny sighed. He was right, Sally would probably be calling her for help in a second, until then she'd appreciate a moment of peace and quiet.

**_Is he still there? –JW_**

_Or_ she could text John. She sighed and reached for her mobile.

**_He just left, he probably caught a cab. Is he not answering his phone? –GL_**

**_No, I've texted him twice and nothing. –JW_**

**_Well he's not here so he'll either be there in a few minutes or he won't. –GL_**

**_Any breakthroughs? –JW_**

**_Sign in logs gave us basic timetables of the victim's workout schedules. Several witnesses describe a vaguely similar suspect. We're putting together a composite so hopefully that gets somewhere. –GL_**

**_Good on you then.- JW_**

**_I suppose. -GL_**

There was a knock on her door and she looked up to see a distressed Sally. 'I'm coming.' She mouthed, and Sally nodded before disappearing around the corner.

**_I've got to go, Sally needs help. One of the witnesses had a break down. -GL_**

**_Sherlock just stormed in, looks like it's going to be a long night. Pub later? -JW_**

**_If you can get away. I'll keep our usual table. -GL_**


	6. Chapter 6

~6~

John climbed out of the cab and paid the fare as he breathed in the cool and refreshing night air. It was his and Ginny's usual night for drinks, a ritual for both of them to blow off steam. As he was about to walk inside his phone vibrated and he scowled, checking it.

**_Don't get too drunk. SH_**

He wasn't going to answer, it was his night _away _and anyway, shouldn't Sherlock be in his mind palace? He had been out like a light when John left fifteen minutes ago.

**_Lestrade isn't interested in you sexually. SH_**

**_I'm sorry, did I read that right? –JW_**

Damn, he hadn't meant to answer, not that he cared. Ginny was more like one of the guys, or another sister, sure she was pretty but- God no, never.

**_I was merely pointing out that Lestrade said she would never engage in coitus with you. SH_**

**_I'm not interested in having sex with Ginny. –JW_**

**_Then why do you two always go out drinking? SH_**

**_Normally you only take a woman out when you want to have sex with her. SH_**

**_Not Ginny. It's just a chance for me to relax Sherlock, to get a break from the flat. –JW_**

**_[Delayed] Oh. SH_**

**_Enjoy yourself. SH_**

**_Right. JW_**

John chuckled as he put his phone away and ordered a pint while he waited for Ginny. She walked in a few minutes later, her hair a bit messed up from her helmet but besides that looking relaxed.

"You beat me." She laughed as she spotted John and slid into the seat across from him, she ordered a soda when John's drink came around, "Witnesses were a hassle. And then I drove my bike so I can't really drink tonight." She shrugged, "What's up with you?"

"Sherlock was texting me." He handed her his phone so she could read over the messages. She scrolled through, bursting out in laughter before handing the phone back, remembering the conversation she and Sherlock had earlier.

"Am I missing the joke?"

"No, well, sort of." She laughed again, "It's hard to explain, is that what he's been thinking about all day?"

"Nah, he was focused on the case when I left, but his main point was that he needs-"

"Another body, right, he mentioned it earlier. I just hope it doesn't have to come to that." Her soda came and she sighed as she sipped it, "The composite was a dud, the sketch was the most generic looking drawing of a person ever. 'Dark blonde or light brown hair, less than six feet tall, no facial hair' ugh." She groaned and covered her face with her hands, "It could be anyone in London."

"Couldn't be Sherlock." John pointed out, trying to make her laugh.

It worked, "True, it couldn't be." She laughed a bit and grinned, sitting back up, her mind wandering.

"Did you get enough sleep last night? Dark circles." He gestured to her eyes

"Hm? Yeah, Mycroft dropped me off just before six and I slept until my alarm rang at ten."

"Why didn't you take your bike?"

"I was sleep deprived; I couldn't take two steps without tripping over my own feet. He was afraid I would crash and kill myself and then there would be no one to put up with Sherlock and give him cases."

"Well I'd put up with him, but I suppose you're right. Now, be honest." He leaned forward, as if he had something very important to say, she mimicked him, listening. "You sure you weren't tripping because you're _head over heels _for the elder Holmes?" John smirked as she smacked his arm hard and pulled back

"Shut up, I'm not head over heels for anyone! I don't have any feelings for him."

"I dunno Gin, you talk an awful lot about him when you're drunk."

"When I'm drunk it's different. I'm _drunk_. Altered state of mind."

"A drunk woman's words are a sober person's thoughts."

"I _don't _fancy him! He's..shaggable, that's all. Nice arse."

"Right, okay. I'm supposed to believe that you'd just fuck Mycroft Holmes and leave without any emotional repercussions."

"Damn straight. Anyway, how's Samantha doing?" she said, swiftly changing the subject.

John winced a little, "You know that's been over for a month."

"And why's that?" she listened to him mumble something incomprehensible, "Right, too much Sherlock." She smirked, "You always going on about how _brilliant _he is, or being interrupted during dates by a text to get to a crime scene, right?"

"That is the _last _time I date one of your team members." He scowled

"All the better, it's bad enough with Sally and Anderson, I don't need any more of that on my scenes."

"Doesn't his wife know?"

"Of course." Ginny finished her soda and stirred the ice, "But she cheats on him too, that's why they got married. Because they could be disloyal without complications." She stared at the bottom of her glass and then the walls.

John picked up on her change in thoughts, "I'm so sorry, Gin." He put a hand on her shoulder, she'd been officially divorced for several months but it still sat on her heart like a fresh scar.

"It's fine." She mumbled, shaking off his hand, she paused before looking up at him, a teasing glint in her eye. "Maybe a _few_ emotional repercussions."

John looked at her, dumbfounded for a second before he burst out in laughter, remembering what they'd been talking about.

"No really, but only because I'm so nice and we work together. Sort of." She grinned

"Admit it."

"There's nothing to admit."

"Fine, you win, you _don't _fancy Mycroft."

"Nope." She smiled brightly, all too aware that she was lying. "Not a bit."


	7. Chapter 7

~7~

Sherlock lay on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. He only had 2 patches on his forearm, this wasn't a 3 path problem. Not yet.

He had a suspicion about the suspect. Making his own deductions and drawing his own conclusions from the gyms they'd been through today. The thing that bothered Sherlock was he couldn't pinpoint the murderer's state of mind. Cold and calculating? Hired and trained? The scales were tipping in favor of insanity but the cleanup routine was too precise. But the habits were sporadic and the schedules…

His thoughts became quicker, the subject growing broader, try as he might he couldn't pull anything new- he _needed _another body, despite Lestrade's protests. There was a mistake on the horizon; anyone else would call it intuition. Sherlock knew it was simply the statistics of someone like their killer, the obsessive tendencies to clean up the blood and body, wiping the foamy residue of the cyanide off their mouths- too much maintenance. He _had_ to mess up and future victim seven was the perfect place to do that.

Having pulled what he could from that Sherlock's mind turned to his other problem, this one closer to home.

"John." His flat mate's name fell from his lips like a dying man's last breath. Sherlock had quietly pushed all non-platonic thoughts and feelings of John aside in a dark part of his mind palace. But times like now when he was alone or didn't have a case, couldn't _think _about the case, he allowed those thoughts to sneak to the forefront of his mind.

Yes Lestrade had been right when she suggested his feelings were beyond platonic, how she'd figured it out he would never guess. But it didn't matter. He'd never admit it, not out loud. He'd blocked off emotions a long time ago, after Uni, after he'd gotten clean. Emotions were what got him into the drugs, so most emotions were under lock and key and hidden in shadow.

He allowed his mind the rare treat of wandering aimlessly and they were all about John, his smile, the tilt of his head, the way he looked in the morning before his first cup of coffee. Sherlock had been tempted so many times to run a hand his hair, hug him close, push him against the wall and kiss him slowly, keeping it sweet. He hadn't kissed anyone since his days on the street, a space of literally years. He used to enjoy it immensely and with John it-

He cut his thoughts off, John was straight, he liked women. He brought his girlfriends to the flat from time to time, never for long, and he spent the night with them often. Not with the last girlfriend…or the one before her, but before _her _he'd spent quite a few nights out. And every single night that Sherlock knew John was away, not sleeping in his upstairs bed- _alone_ made him feel a few pinpricks of envy in his stomach.

But John had been home lately, and Samantha had tossed him last month, of course that drove John to rant and rave at Sherlock, again, but Sherlock (who didn't really _mean _to drive them apart) was nonetheless grateful that his John was home.

He stood and walked towards the kitchen with the intention of making himself a cup of tea, he didn't _want _it, but it reminded him of John. He'd already put the kettle to boil when he opened the fridge to check his current experiment, maggots and a pair of human lungs, when he noticed that they were nearly out of milk (again). He chuckled softly to himself as he recalled John bemoaning the fact that Sherlock never bought groceries. He paused and straightened up, shutting the fridge and turning off the kettle before walking to his room and getting dressed.

After he was dressed he double checked the kettle and he grabbed his coat and scarf off the rack and bundled up as he locked the flat so he could rush to the corner store before they closed shop for the night.


	8. Chapter 8

~8~

John got home just before one, not _drunk _but not sober either. He stumbled in and almost tripped over the couch before he paused at the kitchen doorway. At the kitchen table Sherlock sat, absorbed in his microscope and pretending not to notice John.

"Experiment?" John asked, after a moment of silence as he leaned against the doorway for support.

"Mmm, yes. Decay rate of wolf muscle." He glanced over at John, who hadn't budged, his eyes glued to Sherlock.

"Interestin'."

"Only because you're intoxicated and reluctant to admit it. Did you manage to get here on your own or did Lestrade call you cab?"

"Took a cab, m'tired." John shrugged, finally rousing himself from the doorway and tearing his eyes away from Sherlock's ebony curls and silvery eyes.

Sherlock felt the weight of John's eyes leave his back and he looked up from his experiment. "Go to bed then, you need it."

"Not really." He flopped onto the couch, "Not my day at the surgery tomorrow, and if you and Gin agree that this case is just a waitn' game then tomorrow will be my first real day off in ages. I'll have to head down to the market-"

"There's milk." Sherlock cut in, a note of pride in his voice.

"What?" John asked, sitting up and looking towards the kitchen, confused.

"And a few other essentials we were lacking." Sherlock added, as if John hadn't spoken.

"Did you- did you get groceries? Sherlock bloody Holmes, with your Belstaff and your cheekbones, you ran to Tesco and bought _milk_?"

"The corner market, not Tesco, but yes."

"I don't believe it." John stood, suddenly not tired and brushed past Sherlock as he opened the fridge. "Blimey, you really did."  
"I wouldn't lie about something so trivial." Sherlock replied as John walked back to is previous place on the couch, grabbing his laptop before settling in. "What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Drafting a blog entry, the very foundations of London will crack once people find out that _you _went _grocery shopping_." He tried typing in his password, fumbling with the keys.

With a sigh Sherlock sat next to him, plucking the laptop from his hands and deftly keying in the code before handing it back. "I doubt you can type anything comprehensible in your condition, I suggest sleeping it off."

John took the laptop back and lay back against the couch, spreading out and unintentionally lightly pressing his leg against Sherlock's.

"S'pose you're right." He said after a moment of silence and closed the laptop. "Ginny said you were fightin' with Sally again."

"She was being impertinent. Bed. Now." He edged away from John towards the end of the couch so that they weren't touching, but John only used the extra space to spread his legs wider.

"I think I'll sleep here tonight." He mumbled as he lay his head against the couch and closed his eyes, "I don't wanna move. You don't mind, do you?"

"No." Sherlock stood quietly, "Sleep well." He headed towards the kitchen.

"I'm not going to sleep _yet_, I just don't wanna move. Fancy a cuppa?"

"Meaning you want me to make it for you, yes I suppose." Sherlock sighed resignedly as he put on the kettle and grabbed the mugs off the shelf.

"So, have you just been working on experiments and buying milk or did you take on another case while I was out?" John asked, his words coming out slow as he started drifting off to sleep.

"Nothing happened, I tried to work on the case and got nowhere." Sherlock shrugged, checking back on the wolf muscle before the kettle boiled and he poured the tea.

John sat up as Sherlock walked in and handed him the mug. "I'm sure the killer will strike again."

"Of course he will, most likely within the next two weeks, he'll be getting antsy." Sherlock unbuttoned his waistcoat with one hand as he sat and sipped his tea.

"So until then.."

"We wait."  
They drank their tea in companionable silence.

"Y'know, in all the time I lived here you've never been in a relationship." John piped up casually, putting down his mug.

Sherlock hesitated for only a nanosecond, his cup halfway to his mouth before he spoke. "I'm asexual, John. I haven't had a relationship since my years at Uni and I haven't wanted one. Besides you've had enough girlfriends for the both of us." He joked weakly, setting the cup down.

John chuckled softly and closed his eyes again, "That's true, I just thought- you seemed kinda jealous when I was with Ginny earlier. I thought maybe you fancied her."

Sherlock stared at John for a good few seconds before laughing, "Lestrade? No, never. She's an associate, a co-worker."

"A friend?"

"I've told you before, John. You're my only friend."

"That you'll admit to, Ginny's been in your life for longer than I have and she's done you loads of good."

Sherlock mused, humming softly, "I suppose, yes, I _could _consider her a friend. But nothing more."

"Nothing? She _is _pretty."

"You said you weren't interested in having sex with her." Sherlock pointed out, his tone bordering on accusation.

"She's like my sister." John said sleepily, his head against the couch and his voice getting softer with every sentence. "She doesn't fancy you either."

"I know." Sherlock replied, picking up the mugs and taking them to the sink. "I would have known just by looking at her." He called back, prepared to list why and how, but John didn't answer. Sherlock peeked into the living room to find him fast asleep. He shook his head and grabbed a light blanket from John's bed and covering him with it.

"Sleep well." He said quietly, turning off the lights and retreating to his bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click.


	9. Chapter 9

~9~

**_You've arrived safely, I presume? MH_**

**_What, not checking your cameras? Yeah I got home okay. GL_**

**_I was trying to give you some privacy. MH  
You need some rest. MH_**

**_What I /need/ is a few beers and a crap movie, that'll put me to sleep. GL  
You didn't happen to catch the match, did you? GL_**

**_Personally no. I don't follow sports, though my P.A. informs me that your team of choice triumphed. MH  
Dominated, is her exact language. MH_**

**_Fantastic. More reason to drink and be merry. GL_**

**_So I take it you're not heading to bed. MH_**

**_Not for another few hours at the least. GL  
Wait a sec, if your P.A. whatever her name is, told you does that mean you're still working? GL  
/I/ ought to be telling /you/ to get some sleep. GL_**

**_I am accustomed to working these hours. MH_**

**_So am I! You're a bleeding hypocrite. GL_**

**_Hm, I suppose I am. There's a Doctor Who marathon about to start, series 4. Your favorite if I recall. MH_**

**_Well isn't that odd. Because just a minute ago /before/ I started texting you it was all infomercials for the next few hours. GL_**

**_Odd indeed. MH_**

**_Bleeding hypocrite. GL_**

**_Yes, I do believe we've covered this. MH_**

**_I just had to say it one last time. GL  
Good night, Mycroft. GL_**

**_[Delayed] Sleep well, Ginevra. MH_**

But even after the marathon had finished several hours later Ginny still sat cross-legged on her couch, her cheeks still pink and her beer forgotten on the coffee table. She'd never admit it out loud, God no, especially not in her almost certainly bugged flat. But that didn't stop her from _thinking _it.

_I fancy Mycroft Holmes. _

She knew it was ridiculous for a woman her age to _fancy _someone. She knew it was ridiculous for anyone to fancy _Mycroft_. But there she was, enamored with a government official. She sat back and looked at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint exactly how this had all happened. After her ex-husband had started cheating again and she just gave up? When Mycroft had helped her and Sherlock way back when on the Cameron case? She reasoned that it could have simply built up over time, he _was _good looking and brilliant. He was funny when he wanted to be and he was certainly charming and the whole power complex was a kinda sexy (well _really _sexy actually, if she was forced to admit it).

"But only if I were forced." She chuckled softly before sighing and standing. She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, heading over to the sink and dumping the can of flat beer before chucking it into the bin. She paused and leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the fridge before groaning loudly.

"I hate _everything_."

She shuffled into her room and slipped on her pyjamas before burrowing under the covers and burying her face in her pillow.

Miles away Mycroft Holmes sat in his office, filling out paperwork and humming softly. His P.A. came in with a cup of tea and another file.

"I figured you would want one as well, you seem to be in a good mood." She commented lightly, placing both items in front of him.

"I suppose I am." He replied in the same tone, grabbing the tea cup and taking a small sip.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade?" she asked, arching a well groomed eyebrow in amusement.

"Yes, well, let's finish up here. I'd like to get some sleep before dawn." Mycroft answered, dodging the question and opening the file she'd just given him.

"Of course, sir." She grinned as she turned away and pulled out her Blackberry. "And congratulations on saying good night."

Mycroft ignored her even as his cheeks flamed, once she was gone he glared at the door briefly and sighed. Within moments he was humming again, immersed in the files and his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

~10~

"Sherlock you're being ridiculous!"

"John she was a serial cheater. She gets a thrill out of the idea of being caught, her husband would have found out."

"She wasn't wearing a ring."

"She keeps her ring off when she's not with her husband, the line is there but very faint, she probably had it in her purse."

John threw his arms up and sighed as Sherlock stood calmly by, watching him fume. He opened his mouth to retort again but changed his mind and instead grabbed a bag of groceries and headed to the kitchen.

"She wasn't looking for a long term relationship, John." Sherlock said simply, hanging his coat. "It wouldn't have worked out."

"And who said I was?" John called from the kitchen, sighing again as he picked up the newspaper and headed into the living room, sitting down in his chair.

"Of course you were, you always are." Sherlock hummed, turning on his laptop and sitting across from John as he began to type.

"No Sherlock, I wasn't. She mentioned it right away, told me in _very _explicit terms that all she wanted was sex. You didn't have to humiliate her by pointing out her kleptomania. How did you even know?"

"Her purse was stuffed to the brim with items from more than one shop, it was obvious. Shoplifting is illegal, it's my duty to point it out."

"You've never cared for the law, Sherlock."

"Occasionally it's necessary. But that's not the point, are you saying you _would _have had casual sex with her?"

"Yes Sherlock, it might surprise you but I would have. It's been that long."

"John that defies every aspect of your personality. You've always wanted a long-term, stable relationship and you take your time trying to get them to bed no matter _how _desperate you are."

"Thank you for pointing out my desperation." John shot back sarcastically, "And maybe that's normally what I want but I hate to admit that it's been ages since I've been laid. It's been months, the frustration builds up." He turned the page, "Not that I expect you to know."

Sherlock paused, his emotions had already been dangerously close to the surface and that last comment hit hard. "And what do you mean by _that_?"

John didn't notice the change in Sherlock's tone, he'd gotten his rant out of his system and he was relaxed, more concerned with the paper in front of him than his flatmate. "Only that you don't seem like that type. You said it yourself last night. You're asexual, I wouldn't be surprised if you were still a virgin. Not that there's anything wrong with-" he was cut off as Sherlock slammed his laptop shut and stood up.

"I'm asexual, that doesn't mean I don't like sex, that doesn't mean I don't have a sex drive and it doesn't mean I'm a virgin." He said through gritted teeth.

John watched him carefully, "Fine, alright you're not a virgin, when was the last time you had sex?"

Sherlock felt his cheeks heat up, "It's been nearly five years." He answered after almost a full minute.

"Right." John folded the paper and stood calmly, "And I'm assuming you don't get the same urges I do, or else you would have acted on them. With Molly or someone. Don't know why you wouldn't. London's full of women just tossing themselves at your feet."

Another brief moment of silence as Sherlock stared at John, who crossed his arms, "Well?"

"I've never had sex with a woman. Only men." Sherlock answered softly.

John froze, blinking confusedly, "Ah." He said at the same volume, "So you don't have sex but when you do…?"

"I prefer male partners, yes." Internally he gave a sigh of relief as he watched for John's reaction.

"I see." John mumbled, heading to the kitchen, "And you didn't think to mention that?"

Sherlock stiffened and turned to fact the opening to the kitchen, "Does it matter?" he choked out before grabbing his coat, "As I've already said, it's been years since I've had intercourse and as _you _said, I don't get the same urges." He snorted, pulling on the coat and grabbing his scarf as he left.

"Sherlock that's not what I-" he was interrupted by the door slamming, he ran to open it but by the time he got down to the street Sherlock was nowhere to be found. He trudged back up the stairs and sat on the couch.

_**You took it the wrong way. JW**_

_**[No Reply]**_

_**That's not what I meant. JW**_

_**[No Reply]**_

_**You're acting like a child. JW**_

_**[No Reply]**_

John sat, staring at his phone before rubbing his eyes. He needed a shower, maybe a cup of tea, something to relax him. He check his phone one last time before getting up.

_**[No New Messages]**_

Sherlock stormed down the street to Angelo's, he was a tangled mass of emotions. Frustration-irritation-regret-envy, but still he refused to turn around. He felt his phone vibrating with texts and he reached into his pocket to shut it off without even a glance.

How dare John assume he was a virgin, how dare he think he knew better than. Sherlock felt like his blood was boiling but he kept a straight face as he walked into the restaurant. Angelo was busy which was just fine by Sherlock, he headed into the back and left his phone on the desk without so much as a note and crept out the back entrance.

It was probably a stupid set of actions, it was a code, a way of telling Lestrade and his brother that he needed to be alone, to disappear. They'd worry, and they'd search for him of course, but he didn't care. What he needed right now was something he hadn't had since he'd gotten clean.

He needed a drink.


	11. Chapter 11

~11~

Sherlock sat in the dingy room, practically hiding in a corner at the darkest end of the bar. He was on his fifth drink and his mind still buzzed loudly like a kicked beehive. He looked over at the other patrons, as he had been every few minutes since he walked in and he deduced more and more.

The female bartender, studying physics or aeronautics based on the textbooks stacked behind the bar. A happy gay couple, celebrating their engagement. A single mother who had noticed him a while ago and kept glancing over. Several off duty police officers, none who knew him thankfully. A construction worker, a depressed lawyer, several alcoholics and- ah.

A young stocky blonde entered and smiled at the bartender as he sat and ordered a scotch, he was joking about sports scores and nervously fiddled with his left ring finger.

The deductions started flying, even in Sherlock's slightly intoxicated state.

-Nervous  
-Married  
-Secret apartment  
-Serial Cheater  
-Wife doesn't know he's bisexual  
-Smoker  
-Football player  
As Sherlock watched he felt a smile drip onto his face the way honey drips from a jar and he waved the bartender over.

"I'll pay for that man's drink." He hummed, his voice a soft rumble, "And please let him know."

The bartender winked and smiled as she walked over to the blonde who blushed when she pointed out Sherlock in the corner. Sherlock winked and smiled as he turned back to his drink. His prey, so to speak, would wander his way soon enough.

As always Sherlock was right, within minutes the blonde was seated next to him and smiling nervously over at him every few seconds.

Sherlock waited a minute and then smiled back, leaning over slowly, "Hello." He practically purred, "How's your drink?"

"F-fantastic." The other man stammered as he downed the glass and took a breath before turning to face Sherlock, "Yours?"

"It's fine, though it's not exactly what I'm in the mood for." He smirked, blatantly eyeing the other man's crotch.

"I- ah." The blonde blushed a brighter red and reached for the glass in front of him before realizing it was empty. Sherlock's eyes sparked, this was child's play for him. "So, erm, what _are _you in the mood for?" he asked

"Take a guess," Sherlock teased, leaning forward and letting his breath brush against the other man's ear before pulling back.

He coughed once and gathered his courage, "We could head back to mine? And see if I can give you what you want." He smirked back at Sherlock.

"Sounds lovely." Sherlock hummed back, standing and throwing a few bills onto the bar. The blonde, whose name Sherlock didn't need or want to know stood and admired Sherlock's long legs as he also placed down a few dollars.

"We can catch a cab."

"Wait." Sherlock stopped him and bent down a bit, capturing the other's lips. For the briefest of moments he let himself pretend and daydream, but only for a moment as he felt a tongue slide into his mouth and he reciprocated the action.

Within minutes they'd caught a cab and in less than half an hour they were both naked and Sherlock was being slammed into a mattress moaning and screaming. After what felt like only a few minutes they had both cum and lay on the mattress, panting. Sherlock intentionally leaving a large gap between the two of them.

The blonde sat up and turned to Sherlock with a silky smile, opening his mouth to say something along the lines of 'have you been doing this a long time?'

Sherlock climbed off and stood on the other side of the bed, "Yes. A long time." He answered before even being asked. "Do you mind if I use the restroom?"

The stranger shook his head and gestured to the door, Sherlock grabbed his clothes and stepped out of the room and practically ran down the hallway and into the bathroom. As he turned on the shower and washed the lube and sweat off he leaned against the shower wall and sighed. After a few minutes he turned off the shower and put his clothes back on, his hair and body still wet. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, wet hair and tired face and suddenly flashed back to his recovery. The face he saw in the mirror right now was the same face he'd seen nearly every day as Lestrade and his brother tried to wean him off of heroin and onto reality, the similarities were striking. Was John a drug? Was he an addict all over again?

As that final thought struck him he almost fell, catching himself on the wall and slowly sitting himself on the toilet he covered his face and silently cried for a few weak and vulnerable minutes.


	12. Chapter 12

~12~

**_I haven't heard from Sherlock in a few days, does he have a case? GL_**

**_You and me both. No, not to my knowledge. JW_**

**_Experiments? Or wait, no. Don't tell me he's been in his mind palace for nearly a week. GL_**

**_No actually, um, he hasn't been home for about a week. JW_**

**_[Delayed] Wait, where is he? GL_**

**_We had a fight? JW_**

**_He just kinda, stormed out. JW_**

**_Well I mean, he'll come around, he always does. Then you'll kiss and make up. GL_**

**_Shut up. JW_**

**_Have you texted him your heartfelt apology? GL_**

**_Uh, yeah. Kinda? I texted him but he doesn't have his phone. JW_**

**_He /doesn't/ have his phone. Sherlock's phone is his lifeline. How do you know he doesn't have it? GL_**

**_It's here, on the table in front of me in fact. JW_**

**_He just left it? GL_**

**_Not exactly? Angelo gave it to me when I went to grab some dinner the other night, he also seemed really off when he gave it to me. JW_**

**_Shit. GL_**

**_Fucking holy SHIT. GL_**

**_What? JW_**

**_I'll tell you later, I need to call Mycroft. And several other people. GL_**

**_Why? What's going on? JW_**

**_Ginny? JW_**

**_Gin? JW_**


	13. Chapter 13

~13~

Ginny's heart rate picked up a bit as she called downstairs to make sure Sherlock wasn't down there or had been picked up recently. She pulled up a list of his former clients and silently thanked the heavens John had given it to her as she called asking if any of them had seen or heard from Sherlock in the past week or if any of their more valuable resources had been used without permission.

After a confirmation that no jets had been stolen, no train tickets bought under a false name and no cars had been hijacked she sat down and tried to think, chewing her thumbnail she flicked through a stack of papers to try and keep the panic at bay.

John didn't know, there was no way John could know because he hadn't been around in Sherlock's junkie days and he hadn't learned all of Sherlock's codes and tricks. If he did this or that in a specific way it meant a certain thing, a way to exercise his brain before going and getting high out of his mind.

She paced behind her desk and considered driving around, most of his old dealers were locked up but there were a few places she could look, a few old 'friends' she could ask…

But no, Sherlock was clean. Had been for ages now, hell he'd even been trying to quit smoking there was no way he was sitting in an alley somewhere high and out of it. She shivered at the image, no he couldn't be. She took a deep breath, trying to focus as she pulled out her phone and dialed the only person she could think to call.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade for Mycroft Holmes." She said when Mycroft's PA picked up, trying to keep her voice steady as she sat down at her desk.

"Just a moment Detective Inspector." She replied and after a short pause and soft beep she heard Mycroft pick up.

"Detective Inspector, this is unexpected, is something the matter?"

"Yes Mycroft."

There was a pause and she knew Mycroft was sitting at the other end of the line running scenarios through his head and deducing what was wrong from god knows what, the tone of her voice?

"Sherlock."

"He's missing."

"But there's more than that or else you wouldn't have called." Mycroft pulled out his mobile from the top drawer of his desk and texted his PA in the other room to pull up the CCTV footage from Baker Street and to find the last time Sherlock had shown up on it.

"It's been a week, at least that's what John says. And no one has heard from him."

"Hardly unusual." Mycroft replied, encouraging her to go on.

"He left his phone at Angelo's. No note, not a word to Angelo or John or anyone."

"I see." There was a bit of a pause, "Why?"

"He and John had a fight."

Mycroft scoffed as he opened up his email, the footage had already been sent to him and was timestamped a week ago, Sherlock storming off towards Angelo's. "And that caused him to run off and disappear? Using a code that we only know as a sign he's going to get high?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous but I have no idea what they fought about and it's been too long without contact and I'm really worried." Ginny blurted out all at once, her voice quavering a bit as she swallowed what might have been tears.

Another pause and Mycroft let out a deep breath, "I understand. I'm concerned as well. I will do my best to find him but you and I both know that if he doesn't want to be found he won't be."

"I know. But I figured trying was better than not trying."

"Understandable. I will be in contact Detective Inspector."

"Thanks Mycroft."

Once he hung up he called in his PA and told her to mobilize a few units to see if they could find any trace of Sherlock.

"Check his old haunts, I doubt he's doing drugs but it would be irresponsible not to check."

"Understood, sir." She nodded, pulling out her phone and walking back to her desk as Mycroft's desk phone rang again.

"Ah, hello Prime Minister." He answered, temporarily pushing Sherlock towards the back of his mind, "I have the policy written here if you would like to send an assistant…"


	14. Chapter 14

~14~

The sun was setting in London and Sherlock Holmes was leaning against an alley wall. He'd spent most of the last week hiding out with members of his homeless network and aimlessly wandering the streets as he tried to unscramble his thoughts and emotions and unlocked a door in his mind palace he thought he'd never unlock.

He stepped out of the alley just as the sun finished sinking and the streetlights came on, he started making his way vaguely back to Baker street and breathing in the chill twilight air he took inventory.

In the past week he hadn't eaten very much, not surprising and his body was handling it well. He also hadn't smoked, hadn't had a drink since that first night and had been walking. His mind was in peak form, thoughts and deductions flying at lighting speed.

Sherlock had finally found someone he could drag on cases who was more than 'not a hindrance'. John was his friend. His first real _friend_, something he had been denied in childhood _(surely Mycroft didn't count) _and something he apparently needed in adulthood and had finally found.

And now he had to own up to the first problematic bit of information. Yes, he had acknowledged that his feelings for John were more than platonic, but they weren't merely sexual either as he'd originally suspected. He grumbled, mentally taking note to discover what he was if he wasn't asexual(_not gay but perhaps something else)._

The second point to acknowledge that even though he (_loved__)_ had feelings for John they would never be reciprocated. John was attracted to women, he'd made that abundantly clear from even their first meeting. His frequent protests of 'I'm not gay' and 'Not his date' flashed through Sherlock's mind like a heart breaking slideshow. So he couldn't tell John (_can't lose John, I'd die without John)_ because his reaction would be devastating, if this little spat that they'd had was anything to go on.

And he wouldn't lose John. Nothing was worse than that.

He glanced at his watch and headed toward the nearest intersection, a cab pulling up the moment he held out his arm.

"Baker Street, please." He said, silent as he rounded up his thoughts and locked them back in his mind palace.


	15. Chapter 15

~15~

Two and a half hours later Sherlock's cab pulled up in front of 221B, the lights were blazing and a sleek black car was parked in front. Sherlock paid the cabbie and stepped out, looking up at the windows.

Mycroft was certainly up there sitting in _his _chair across from John, and if the two of them were there Lestrade was almost certainly there, hovering in the doorway and keeping the peace and mother henning. The three of them, of course, ready to reprimand him the moment he walked in the door. He let out a short sigh and steeled himself, slamming the last mental deadbolt on the forbidden door and leaving the dark deep hallways behind.

He unlocked the door and threw it open with his usual flair. He stepped in ignoring the three sets of eyes watching him silently as he hung up his scarf and coat, acting as if he hadn't dropped off the face of the earth for five days. When he finally turned to them he asked, "Tea?"

Ginny gestured at the mugs on the table in front of them, "We're fine, but I'll make some more-"

"No need," he headed over and sat in his chair, "Well who's first?"

There was a solid minute of silence before John spoke in a low rumble, "Sherlock, we were all worried _sick_ apparently you leaving your phone was a _code_ and you had us and half the Yard out looking for you, you vanished without a _trace_-"

"A formality, I assure you. At the very least my meddling older brother knew I was safe, Lestrade should have known as well. It's an old code from when-"

"Actually Sherlock, we didn't." Ginny cut in sharply, "We're on a stressful case that shows no signs of breaking any time soon, patches weren't helping, we didn't know- you could have-" she stopped herself, shaking her head at the thought of it, "We didn't know."

Mycroft stood, crossing to the window and checking that his car was still downstairs, "We had our suspicions but it was impossible to be sure. My assistant caught glimpses of you on the cameras but not nearly long enough for us to-"

"Yes, yes that should have let you know well enough that I was fine."

"It wasn't." Mycroft answered, turning back to face the room.

"Have you eaten?" Ginny asked, as John cleared away the mugs of tea.

"I'm not hungry."

"But have you-" she was cut off by her phone ringing and she headed off into a corner to answer it, "Lestrade here."

As she spoke John came back and glared at Sherlock over the table, Mycroft heading towards the kitchen to give them some space.

Sherlock eyed the chair that Mycroft had just vacated and then with a disgusted sigh settled on client's stool. "Well you obviously have something to say." He commented as John sat in his chair.

It was uncomfortable for John, having Sherlock in the client's place, perhaps he sensed that, or deduced it, because he stood suddenly and headed over to where his violin sat. John waited a moment before speaking, "We were worried."

"You've mentioned it, yes." Sherlock answered, picking up his violin and turning it over in his hands.

"_I_ was worried." There was an expectant silence and John took a deep breath, "Alright. I'm sorry. After living with you for all this time, what you said was- well it was a shock. And I suppose I didn't really understand what you meant and I did some reading and- point is I'm very sorry."

Sherlock still didn't answer, plucking at his violin strings, from the other room Lestrade's voice could be heard on the phone. Then he slowly put down his violin, "I accept, though as a doctor maybe it is best if you learn those other sexualities besides gay, straight and bisexual."

John huffed a small chuckle as Sherlock turned around and faced him, a small smile gracing his face, "Yeah, yeah alright." John grinned as Ginny walked back into the room.

"We've got a body." She said, looking slightly sick, "Victim matches the profile of past victims but the MO is different."

"We'll still check it out." Sherlock said, sweeping off towards the front door, "We'll be riding with you, Lestrade?" he asked, putting on his coat.

"I'd have to go pick up a car from the Yard, I brought my bike here."

"Then we will take a cab, text me the address. John?"

"I'm coming." John rolled his eyes, standing.

"Lestrade, the address. Now."

"Jesus Christ I can only type so fast." Ginny answered, typing, "There. Sent. I'll be right behind you."

"Yes, of course. Let's go." He swept down the stairs, John right at his heels.

Ginny watched them go and started gathering her things as Mycroft walked back into the room.

"They've gone. You have a scene?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm gonna hop on my bike and head out too."

"Of course, but first, Detective Inspector."

She paused, halfway into her jacket, "Yeah?"

"I'd like to meet you for lunch tomorrow. To discuss Sherlock."

"Oh." She finished putting on her jacket, "Yeah of course, text me the address and I'll meet you around noon."

"Excellent. Until tomorrow, Inspector."

"I'll see you later." She nodded, grabbing her helmet and heading out, pausing for a second before climbing on her bike. "God damn me." She mumbled, shaking her head.


End file.
